


Startear

by ImogenSmiley



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: But Kinda Canon Divergent, Emotionally Overwhelmed, Gender Neutral MC - Freeform, Gender Neutral Pronouns, Grief, Hanging, Implied Nadia x Portia, Implied One-sided Nadia x Portia, Julian Devorak's Route, Julian Devorak's Route (The Arcana), Julian Devorak's Route Spoilers, Julian's Route, Kinda canon compliant, Other, Pining Nadia, Public Execution, Slight Canon Divergence, Spoilers, Spoilers for Julian's route, They/Them pronouns for MC, gender neutral pronouns for MC, spoiler - Freeform, spoilers for the arcana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26894299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImogenSmiley/pseuds/ImogenSmiley
Summary: Left hysterical with grief, Pasha does her best to calm down.AKA: A slight adaptation of the way things happened in Julian’s Route post-hanging, leading up to MC fainting
Relationships: Minor Apprentice / Julian Devorak, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Kudos: 6





	Startear

Pasha Devorak saw her brother, whom she loved more than anyone else in the world, be hanged for a crime he didn’t commit.

She had reached for the hand of her brother’s distraught lover; the magician. Their palms were trembling, but their eyes were open, flickering from the swinging, heavy body of their lover; as he was being cut loose from the noose, to the sky.

She had wondered what they were looking at, or for, but was worried she would break their trance.

They really were something special, and she couldn’t deny that they had been invaluable to finding out what had actually happened. But that likely made them feel worse, after all, they defended him in court and yet, her brother still hung. Ilya was dead.

They had said that Ilya’s plan would work, but now, watching his lifeless body be carted away to an open-topped cart, while the hangman was pelted with rotting food, they didn’t look as optimistic. The colour had drained from their face as they stared after the wagon.

Pasha’s knees were buckling.

Beside her was Mazelinka, the pirate. She had acted like a mother in the years she had been in Vesuvia, settling down and hanging up her cutlass to help her dear Pasha spearhead a quest to prove Ilya’s innocence, only for him to end up hanging anyway. The older woman swallowed, hard and glanced at the two younger people in her company, equally acknowledging Julian’s lover as completely incapacitated.

Whatever thoughts were going through the magician’s head; they were beyond where they were right now. Perhaps they were trying to talk to The Hanged Man their-self. Who knew?

Pasha’s glance slowly shifted from her friend, to her mother-figure. She let out a shaky breath, and Makelinka opened her arms. Portia barrelled into her, making the older woman stager back a step. She let the redheaded girl weep into the crook of her neck as the countess’ men sought the magician from the crowds, whisking them away and back to the palace.

She had to go too, the palace hands would be looking for her, and she had to keep face. She let go of Mazelinka and told her to make her way to the palace on foot, she would sneak her in. But, until then, she had to be Portia, the handmaiden, not Pasha. She couldn’t be a Devorak right now.

She rushed after the magician, and was allowed swiftly into the carriage alongside Nadia.

The Countess looked concerned, her violet brows knitted together as crimson eyes glanced out of the window.

“Portia,” her brother’s lover asked, “Are you alright?”

The redhead sighed, shaking her head, “I know, I know you said that would work, but Ilya…”

They nodded, a small, encouraging smile on their lips, “He’s going to be okay.”

Portia nodded. There was something reassuring about hearing them say it. It sounded more plausible when those thoughts, feelings and declarations came from their lips. In that moment, a faint sheen of blush coated her cheeks. Portia understood exactly why her brother was so enamoured with the magician. How could he not be? Even she was, just a little.

Although the redhead’s affections were surely in the Countess’, ever-unrequited favour, Portia felt a kinship with her brother she hadn’t had in years. She felt like she understood him more being in such close quarters with his beloved. It was clear, from how Ilya wriggled and writhed, cheeks ablaze, skittering around questions he was afraid of having answered. It was clear from nervous laughter, and faltering facades that they were something special.

And she felt a stabbing pain in her chest as they met her eyes, tears welling along their waterline. Guilt unhinged its gluttonous jaws and consumed her whole. How was this fair? To suddenly be washed over with such emotions? She knew that their heart belonged to Ilya. Why was she so upset? She loved Nadia, she loved her beloved Countess, and yet, in that moment, she just wanted to dry their tears, and hold them.

But that wasn’t her role to play. Tears fell from Portia’s eyes as she shook her head.

And across from her, they raised their fine brows. Just for a moment. Then, they reached across to her, and placed their hand on top of hers. There were rings with many beautiful stones adorning each one of their long fingers. Their hands were trembling too, like their heartbeat was sending their entire body into tremors, like a volcano due to erupt. Anticipation was bubbling like magma inside them and Portia understood. She felt the same. She took their hand in their own, and in silence they prayed.

Nadia did too. The Countess prayed for an end of this spectre. She prayed that a solution could be found without ruining what she had worked so hard for. She prayed for her beloved kind-hearted handmaiden, her closest confidant to be okay. She held the secretive woman in high esteem and although there was nothing she could do about _those_ feelings while Portia was on her staff, having her close tended to be comfort enough. But not right now; not when she knew that Portia daren’t confide her fears in her. There was too much at stake, too much happening. For just a moment, she longed to go back to her tower and work things out but she knew she couldn’t.

Portia needed her. Julian needed her.

Her country needed her.

Portia eventually opened her eyes, and gazed at her companion. They had shed tears; tracks reaching past their cheeks and pooling at their chin. Several had dripped into puddles along piling fabric. They were silent, breathing quietly, almost like they were asleep.

“Are you okay?”

They didn’t respond.

“Hey, come on, don’t mess with me right now!”

“Milady!” Portia declared, “I think the magician has fallen unconscious!”


End file.
